


Dispatched Sanity

by FeltLikeWritingAndHereIAm



Series: Stories I wrote when inspired but couldn't finish because of life [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games), Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-10-08 23:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17396012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeltLikeWritingAndHereIAm/pseuds/FeltLikeWritingAndHereIAm
Summary: A teenage Edward Nygma’s life was saved because of a dispatcher talking to him until he was rescued. Now, as an adult, and working as the head of the Cyber Crime Division in the GCPD, he still couldn’t find the man who saved his life. He needs to, just to thank him.





	1. Chapter 1

He was slowly losing his life in the most agonizing way possible. If death was a simulation, then this simulation runs on 60 FPS, which was far too slow for his neural networks to use efficiently. The random sounds of cheap B-movie sound effects could be heard through the cracks, and the light coming from below the door was all he could comprehend for the moment as his lifeblood seeps out of his wound.

Edward Nygma was dying, and there was simply nothing he could do.

He mourned for all the great things he could have achieved. He could have left long ago, no need to stay here any longer, not when his mother had left him with this scoundrel of a man and ran away with a person three times her age and 10 times her worth to live a happily ever after without him.

Edward knew that there was nothing that bolted him down in this place except for the sense of false duty to his father, and what good did that bring?

He turns around, to lay on his back, and couldn’t help but whine at the pain that the simple actions had caused. It was so little, nothing much but a head turn, yet here it is exhausting him.

Nothing but his mind slowly draining out as it breathed the last of its life.

No one will ever witness his true genius, and he truly did mourn that thought.

He wanted to be praised.

He wanted to be seen for his potential.

He wanted to be seen for his achievements.

He wanted to be more than that boy down the street who had an odd fixation on puzzles and riddles.

He wanted to feel happy, the same sort of happiness he got from said puzzles and riddles, only for it to come from stuff other than those.

He wanted to experience life.

He wanted- He wanted help.

Why couldn’t anyone ever help him? What was so wrong with him that people decided to turn a blind eye? Why was it that every other boy or girl that were having just a tiny problem home, like their parents not letting them hang out with their friends, were seen more important than the obviously abused child?

Why was it that he never sought out for a solution?

Or sought out for help when it truly mattered?

Help …

His eyes slid down the room, to one wall, where one cord could be seen attached to it. Following the cord, he can see the landline.

Help …

He forced himself to move, despite all the pain and the nausea hitting him in waves, despite the slowly forming bile in the back of his mouth, he resisted, and clawed the wooden broken floor to pull himself across the room.

His hands raised, trying to grab hold of the handle, only for him to knock the table that the phone sat on.

He felt his breath stop, listening intently to the sounds of the television, fearing for any change that could occur, that the man could have heard.

But to his fortune, for once in his miserable life, the sounds did not mute.

The sound of the phone’s ringing, however, caught his attention.

His hands flailed for a second, clicking on the numbers, and waited-

“911 emergencies.”

“I’m dyi-dying.” He choked out. “There’s blood- blood on the floor.”

“Where are you?”

“The Bowery. Street number …” He didn’t realize he was slowly losing consciousness, did not realize that his hold in reality was slipping. All he knew for sure was that this is it, he was going, and he isn’t willing to go without letting his father fall with him.

“My dad’s- Dad’s a- a-” Was he losing air?

“Breath in, calm down, ambulance is coming.”

“Gun. He has a gun, he’ll shoot anyone. I’m not his first vic- victim.”

“It’s alright, police are coming too. Don’t worry, just stay with me. What’s your injury?”

“I’m bleeding- in the head … I’m losing lots of blood.”

“What’s your name?”

“Ed- Edward.”

“Edward, tell me something happy, something you did today, or yesterday.”

“I … got a scholarship confirmation to Gotham University.”

“That made you happy?”

“It’s a full- full ride. Dad doesn’t-” Air was in low supplies now. “Thinks I cheated. Always thinks I cheated.”

“I believe that you earned that scholarship. I bet you’re going to be doing good, what’s your major?”

“Undecided. I’m- I’m doubling majors. Skip- Skip foundation.”

“Well, if you got a full ride scholarship to Gotham University of all places, then I believe you can do it. Let’s make sure that you’ll get there, alright? Just take more breathes. Can you count for me?” The operator asked, and he couldn’t help but snort.

“I can count in decimals, binaries, hexas, and octans.” He can! He really can! It’s just too hard to think about it now, not when so many things are flying over his head at the moment.

“I have no idea what that is, can you explain?” Explain? No one ever asked to be explained. Maybe he should, it’s nice to know someone wants to learn.

“Decimal is- How we count. We write 1, 2, 3, and … Uh …”

“Go on, I’m listening.”

He started crying.

“No one ever listened to me, they always said I’m lying.” He admits, what did he ever do to lie? He only practiced a puzzle game once, and it’s been stuck with him ever since.

“Well, I am, son. I’m listening.” That was a really comforting thought.

“When is the police coming? I don’t think I can- feel my legs anymore.” He whispered, now closing his eyes and squeezing them. “I like- I like walking. I don’t want to lose my legs!”

“What’s all that racket?!” Came the voice from the other room, Edward squeezed and couldn’t help but let a whimper out.

“Please- Please- Don’t let him get me- Please! I’m scared!” He couldn’t continue as the door slammed open. The screaming from his back was so common, so annoyingly repeatable, that it had become background noise by then.

He didn’t want that.

He didn’t want that to be the last thing he heard.

“Mister Operator? Can- Can you sing for me?”

“What?” The confusion in the voice made him chuckle.

“To sleep? My mom- she- she never sang me to sleep, ever.”

“I- You’re going to survive this, Edward, you don’t need that.”

“Please?”

“…”

He almost gave up hope, but his spirit lifts up when he heard singing coming from the other line.

_“Is this the real life? Or is this fantasy?”_

Edward was lost.

All he remembers then was the smooth voice of the operator, the evading blue and red lights from the windows, his father’s snarling face as he spits abuses at him, the cold that seeped into his bones, the cold floor that slicked with blood.

And the still nice singing from the operator, even as yelling was heard, and his father was forced out of his sight. His eyes couldn’t follow, couldn’t tell exactly why he was snatched away.

But he could then see paramedics surrounding him, trying to talk to him, trying to pull away the phone.

But he didn’t let go.

Because the song was entrancing.

He always heard the song before, it was both famous and infamous, a classic. It held no meaning but a way to connect to other people, but now?

It spoke to him.

“We’re losing him!”

“Thank- Thanks for the song.” He said before letting go of the handle.

He was a 15-year-old boy from the Bowery who managed to survive head trauma and a gunshot to the lungs. A definite poster boy to everyone else who heard of his story, which was most of the child population of the Bowery.

Edward swore to himself to find the man who sang him his supposed last lullaby and thank him.

\--

Riddle: What is the music of life?

Answer: Silence.

Conclusion: He didn’t die, he merely went on a substantial and returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mainly inspired by:  
> 1- Batman the animated series  
> 2- Batman Arkham video games  
> 3- The comics during Riddler's redemption arc (before the reboot)
> 
> Anyways, I actually wrote this before Gotham ever aired. So, as I wrote the names, I feel weirded out by thinking of them all in different ages. The settings are mainly inspired by the Animated series, Ed's occupation was obviously inspired by the Arkham game (last released game). His morals are inspired by the games and his stint as a private detective in the comics. Montoya is mainly inspired by the animated series.


	2. Chapter 2

“Well? Can you unlock it?”

“Can _I_ unlock it? Don’t insult me with your skepticism. Of course, I can!” Edward snapped, pulling out his rugged laptop case and popping it open. A couple of wire needed to be reattached, but it didn’t hinder him much as he connected it to the door and effectively killed the lockdown the place had been under for the past few hours.

“I’m going through security now to see if something’s on the other side.” He tells them and hummed when he noticed some people on the corridors. “Three goons with burlaps.”

“Great, more whack job followers. Can’t Scarecrow just stop recruiting already? It’s not like he’s really using them for anything other than to experiment on them.” The detective said as he pulls out his gun. The other officer, Montoya, taps his shoulders and gestures for him to back away politely and to hang in the back behind the cruisers.

When his eyes followed the direction she pointed at, he can see Commissioner Gordon leading the men into formations.

Edward rolls his eyes but does as asked, zipping everything in perfect timing with no mess left behind and ran back to the safety of the cruisers.

“Good job, Eddie. I don’t even know why they didn’t call you immediately, this is a high-level case.” Gordon comments once he sidled next to him. He accepts the bulletproof vest and gas mask from him, equipping it in anticipation of the fight.

“Well, you know how it is in the station.” He said, abhorrence decorating his voice. Gordon couldn’t help but sigh as he heard it. It wasn’t any fault of the commissioner so much as his extreme detachment for everyone but a certain few that caused such a lack of communication.

He sat down behind the cruiser, still looking through the cameras as he sent locations to the man inside the base, and would have kept at it, would have continued looking through the grainy feed of the less than stellar cameras, if it were not for one surprise.

A canister rolled out from underneath one of the cruisers.

As it settled in place, mustard-colored smoke starts to leak out of it, a bit dense and somewhat opaque.

Edward didn’t need a second warning to get away from the canister before the explosion occurred.

More shouting could be heard, but the sharp ringing in his ears stopped him from concentrating. What shocked him into action were firm hands holding onto his shoulders as he was pulled off the floor and forced to move as men in blues, blacks, and greys start running the other direction, aiming pistols and handguns while shooting.

“Get him out of here!”

“Yes sir!” He was confused until he was situated on a bike and was now driven away from the arms race. All Edward could do was watch as officers fell down, shots echoed in the air, and a shadow covering their previous hiding spot.

“Fuck, fuck! Scarecrow’s got us again!” The man growls under his breath as he speeds, to escape the rural setting of the dense forest and roughly lands them on the highway that was found a ledge below. Edward all but grabbed the officer’s back, fearing for his life.

Back in the station, he was put back in his office and waited as the surviving officers returned with no uplifting news.

The Scarecrow got away.

And they lost three men, a woman, and Commissioner Gordon was also in the hospital.

The GCPD had been in a rut for the past month when the city’s vigilante had all but disappeared. No matter how much Edward tried to search for the reason as to why, he couldn’t find any. Not through city surveillance, or the criminal statements.

Gotham’s caped crusader simply went after the Joker one night …

And vanished.

It had been eating Edward alive not being able to find the man. Not when the only failure he ever faced during his job was finding the dispatcher – the man he owed his life to.

While what the Scarecrow had done this night was not good, it all fell on the GCPD’s field agents, not on him. He had done his job and had done it exponentially.

Three hours of going through footages and dissecting every frame possible, Edward left the station to go and hide behind his apartment door, to block out the city for the night and go rest his weary head.

But he couldn’t sleep. His Insomnia had invaded him once more, and he found himself getting off the bed as he contemplated what manners he could use the driving forces of his mind to work on.

He could go back to the Dispatcher case …

But there haven’t been any advances in that problem for quite some time. Especially after the case had been deemed closed.

What of the Batman? Commissioner Gordon’s friend? Search for him, like he had been doing for weeks with no resting intervals.

He couldn’t, not when he still felt jittery over what had happened in the evening. The memory of a canister, rolling in front of him in such an innocent little spiel still looped in his mind. The gas, as it surrounded them, the rising fear despite the mask being worn and approved by the safety regulations.

What if-

He finally decided on what to do. Edward had gotten out of his room and reached for his coat. His dark green coat to be exact, only worn when he was out of duty. He didn’t dare to leave the apartment without a hat, a news boy’s hat, an ironic choice for him but he didn’t care much as it does a substantial job of covering his red hair and gathering it up in one place.

Walking down the streets at night did not scare him, not when he had faced something more terrifying a few hours ago, and not with the 23 years of experience he had gained of simply living on the streets of Gotham.

It was a cesspool, and depending on your birth, your money, and connections, this cesspool could be under your command.

He left the more dangerous streets to reach the pleasant roads of the upper-class areas. He spies the building with the cross and the snake from afar and directed himself.

He was surprised to find one magpie sitting on a lonely branch, crowing loudly. It caught his attention simply for the fact that crows _shouldn’t_ be staying up at night, as ridiculous as it sounds. The nocturnal animals are known for sleeping when the sun is down. Usually, with its pack of murder.

“Are you lonely, buddy?” He asked but felt silly even if the crow replied to him with its crooning voice. Shaking his head, he walks past the crow and into the hospital.

With ease, he charms the receptionist into giving him the room he seeks.

With patience, he found himself in Commissioner Gordon’s room.

“Eddie?”

“Hello, Commissioner. How’s the surgery?”

“They didn’t give me any drugs to sleep it off, they were too afraid of losing me,” Gordon says, huffing but then continued to tug at the IV line. “Now I’m just being pumped with pain meds, it’s useless. I still remember the cuts.”

“Oh, you’ll get used to that after a while, don’t worry.” He said as he grabs a chair and sits down. “I’m astounded that you have not slept yet.”

“I can’t.” He said plainly, as if the reason behind the answer was written on a sign and hung behind him. Edward gave him a pitying look.

“Fear Toxin?”

“Fear Toxin.” He confirms. “When we finally catch that man, he’ll face justice for what he’d done.” Gordon says under his breath.

Was it bad that Edward didn’t care? He didn’t care for people who tend to be abusive or are corrupt. He knew all the bad eggs in the GCPD, but because his voice really doesn’t carry out much unless it concerns the tech, he never says it out loud.

He was rather glad that two of the victims were in these categories.

Admitting it so to the man was not a good way to present himself in his most dire of times.

After an hour or so of talking the older man finally fell asleep, and Edward left the room, knowing that his shift tomorrow will be nothing but hell.

He walked past the same tree he had seen earlier and was intrigued by the presence of a new crow by the first one.

“Oh, you found a friend. That’s nice of you.” He says, and to his delight, the birds flew down and sat on his shoulders. “Hey, this is my favorite coat. Don’t you dare mess it up.” He warns the avian creatures-

Only to hear a chuckle from behind.

Edward completely twirls around, ready for a fight, only to be frozen in motion as his eyes lands on the owner of the voice.

He was a tall person, much taller than him. Lanky and gangly limbs awkwardly rested beside him, and a gaunt face with tired blue piercing eyes staring at him hiding behind spectacles. He can tell that the man usually groomed himself into a presentable look, but his current unkempt hair seemed to indicate that he'd been in an accident of sorts. Seeing as this was a hospital, it's more likely to have been the cause of his dishevelment.

“Those are my birds, I apologize.”

“Your … birds?” He questioned as he carried one off his shoulders and passed it to the man.

He swore that he can hear the man whisper under his breath _“One for sorrow.”_

“Apologies, I just found that they are good listeners.” He said as he took the other one off, passing it back to the man. The Avian released a pleased crow as the man holds it, petting its head.

_“Two for mirth.”_

“Are you … _singing?_ ” Edward suddenly blurts out. "Nursery rhymes?”

“So, what of it?” The man has suddenly become defensive, borrowing the bird deep into his chest. His stare, the blankness behind those glasses, rooted itself on him.

Edward blinked.

“Nothing. I’m surprised, is all. I’m more of a ... classic rock and fifties oldies guy myself." He amends, not ready to fight a guy who just got out of the hospital. "Interesting rhyme. The counting crow, right? From the wording, you’re singing the original. Three for marriage? Four for Birth?”

“I … never seem to find myself with only three or four crows. They always seem to collect themselves in a large pack. Except for these two, they are lovebirds.”

“Then their fledgling will be the marriage or birth crow, do not worry.” Edward humors him. The man hummed, blankly staring at the two birds as they start falling asleep. Edward mused with the idea that this man might be considered family for the Avian creatures.

“It may be. It’s interesting, usually, people are revolted by my rhymes. It comes with the job, unfortunately.”

“Job?”

“I’m a psychologist.” The man smiles then, his gaunt face stretching and showing lines, but not nearly enough. Only around his mouth, not the eyes. It spoke of solemnity, it spoke of a finite amount of days that went by without expressions or laughter.

Edward was entranced once more.

“I know a man who also enjoys classic rock, I know many in fact. They are not the best to associate with, I cannot say I enjoy their presence. So, please forgive me if I express less than pleasant thoughts of your chosen genre.”

“To each their own, I say.” Edward mused, usually it was the fifties songs that people were weirded out by, not the rock songs.

Finally, finally! The smile turned genuine.

“Jonathan Crane.” He introduced himself.

\--

Riddle: Anxiety is my grounds, laughter chases me away, and selfishness indulges me. What am I?

Answer: Fear.

Conclusion: I am not fearful. Laughter had escaped me long ago, and anxiety had done nothing but stop me in the past. Selfishness on the other hand …

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I imagine Watch Dogs whenever I write about someone hacking. Marcus Holloway pulling out a laptop and sitting on the curb pose. Aiden Peirce with his phone pulled out and gun by his side. Despite how ridiculous and unrealistic it is, that's how I imagine hacking is.
> 
> Anyways, how did the first meeting of our emotionally stunted lovebirds go?  
> (Yes, Jon was definitely there to finish what he started and maybe kill the commissioner, but _something_ happened ...)


	3. Chapter 3

“He’s smiling. It’s freaky.”

“Leave him alone, I haven’t seen him smile like that in a while.” Montoya snaps, glaring heatedly at Bullock’s statement.

Edward couldn’t care less.

His past two outings with a certain Professor had brought a sort of light to his life. Rays shining down where he had been stuck in the rot and darkness for ages. It was refreshing, and enlightening, to meet someone else that not only could they discuss a complex topic with, but debate back in an opposing manner.

“I think he’s going out with a girl.”

“Bullock, I swear to god-” Edward smacked the sounds away as he types his report. For the day, no more villainous plots had occurred, but there was a recent breakout from the asylum, and the station had been tense since it happened.

Few notable rogues had gone missing, and it had fallen into Edward’s hands to go through surveillance to find those criminals.

Up until now, he was able to spot killer croc by the park, Two-Face in a casino, and Harley Quin, the most obvious of the lot, breaking into the zoo to reclaim her pets.

His shift finally ends, and he checks his phone.

A smile appeared on his face.

“See, that’s the face you get when you know you’re going to get some-” A smack was heard, and Edward’s face immediately drops as he glares at the detective.

“Excuse you, at least I have a date. What about you? Another night with a doughnut?” He seethes, stomping away from him.

“Now look what you did!” Montoya yells at her current partner.

“I didn’t mean it!”

“If you must know, it is a simple dinner. It might be spent discussing the mentality of the city and the culture its surrounded with to accumulate a mob’s movement.” He said, only to notice that the two other officers were giving him strange looks. “What?”

“Your date’s talking about this stuff?”

“Why shouldn’t we?” Edward asks, interested in learning how normal plebian minds operated. But Montoya was far too polite to be insulting his habits.

“I think it’s cute that you guys share a hobby, no matter how obscure it is. Where’s dinner going to be?”

“Oh, it’s going to be in the Rose.” He said, and Bullock lets out a loud and long whistle as he heard that response.

“The Rose? Getting serious here, aren’t we?”

“Not really, it’s because of the Poison Ivy incident. He wanted to see the mark it left on the place, and I agreed, I want to see the Staff’s coordination even after so many years.”

“That sounds cool- He?” Bullock whispered to himself. Edward was just glad that he did. Usually, the man yells out whatever was in his mind.

“Well, don’t let us stop you.” Montoya told him, waving at him as she discreetly smacked Bullock’s head. “Be quick about it before Loeb finds something for you.” She reminded him, and Edward grimaced at the thought. Acting Commissioner Loeb was the worst person to replace Gordon, in fact, everyone was sure that there was someone else in place instead of that specific man, knowing how much Commissioner Gordon would advocate for a more law-abiding officer. Some people even thought that Bullock had more chance of being acting commissioner even if he was a morally grey and lazy man. It was a sad thing that he enjoyed being a detective more than branching in ranks.

He had spent half a year as a shift commander before picking his successor and leaving the GCPD for a while.

No one could figure out what he had done in that short stint out of the law’s pockets.

Either way, he wasn’t chosen as a replacement, and everyone was stuck with the stuck up Loeb. Edward especially hated him, hated how the man dismisses most of his thoughts and notes, hated how he never lets him continue on some cases to solve them easily with just a few clicks.

He can tell that Loeb was corrupt, but should he expose him?

Not now, not when the GCPD was swamped and the batman wasn’t in sight. His little birds truly did a good job, but no one was as good as Batman in fighting off crimes.

Exposing the head as part of the people that you’re trying to fight off will cause a large amount of chaos, it will slowly spell over everyone else, and could end up with everyone under the microscope. He did not fool himself into thinking that he wouldn’t be the first suspected to be delved into corruption, or even be framed.

He was not a nice man, he showed his hate and loath to anyone wasting his time, and many of the officers there are exactly that, wasting his time. There would be a good chunk of the precinct willing to frame him for a compromising act.

He reached the shopping district just as five o’clock hit. Many couples were out and about, making him wonder if it was normal for people being out so early. Maybe they were the afternoon crowd leaving instead.

That’s when he spots the man, walking down the street in his coat, the very same one he had seen him wear that night in the hospital, and many times after.

Was this a date?

Or just a simple dinner between friends?

Someday, hopefully soon, he will get his revenge on Bullock for planting such thoughts in his mind.

“I am glad that we both had arrived at the same time. I’d hate to be too early or too late.”

“Us? Making a mistake? Do not sell yourself short, Dr. Crane.” He jokes as they enter the café.

It was nice for the short time that they had spent together. He knew he went away with himself, talking animatedly with the stoic man, but seeing as Crane hasn’t stopped him at all during his monologues, he did not bother himself in correcting his own actions. Crane would add some minor comments from time to time.

When the man himself spoke, it was always straight to the point, scientific, and resembled what one might imagine a textbook would sound like. Edward enjoyed it, for unlike many other people, his words were more mentally stimulating than the usual conversation he is forced to partake with his division.

Crane was halfway into explaining how they had discovered a new way to use a certain hormone on different mammals, and gain results that were contradictory if it were used on a human, when his pager went off.

Edward groaned.

“Apologies, Jonathan, but it seems that I am being called in.”

“Yes … I forgot that you were an officer for a moment.”

“I’m a digital forensic, not an officer. Really, I’m only a civilian worker who happens to lead the tech department in the GCPD.” He said as he took out his pager and looked at the text.

He stopped breathing for a second.

“Oh, no.” He said as he got up, pulling out his wallet to pay for his part, only to find that Crane had raised his hands, giving him a resounding no. “I can’t just let you pay for all of this.”

“It’s alright. You need to go anyways, it seems that you have an emergency.”

“Y-Yeah. Someone sent in a data pack, it’s-” He stopped. He can’t really tell Crane about this, can he? “We’re afraid it’s a rogue, they’re the only ones who do these things.” He admits before sending him a greeting and leaving, running as fast as he could to the station. No point of picking a cab when it’s rush hour.

Back in the store, Jonathan Crane hummed as he leaned back on his chair. A slow creeping grin forms on his face, as he takes a bite out of his treat.

** 0o0o0 **

“No …” Montoya whispered as she looks at the monitors. Every other officer in the room were either shocked or filled with grim acceptance.

Edward couldn’t help but slam the desk with his fists.

The data pack continued a video of the mad hatter, prancing around a tied up Batman. The vigilante was limp, bruised, and bleeding. However, a headband could be seen atop the vigilante's head, one shaped to look like a rabbit's ears, a white rabbit in fact. That could only mean one thing.

Mad Hatter had mind-controlled Batman.

“There’s nothing else? Anything?!” Loeb shouted above his head, and Edward turns to glare at him.

“That’s everything! Be glad that I could even salvage anything after you let the incompetent dollops handle it! This file was corrupted!”

“You’re a whiz kid, you can do something more about it.”

“I-”

“Alright fellas, it’s not the time to fight. Eddie, any ideas?”

“Yes, I want to hear what Forensics say about the package itself, at least _they_ are mindful.” He growled. It took a while, a couple of hours at least, but what came back to them was that the package held some machine oil, alcohol, and messed up prints that couldn’t be salvaged because of the aforementioned incompetent cops who handled the thing.

“Sorry, you had to be pulled out of your date.” Montoya told him just as she hands over a cup of black coffee. Edward stared at the swirling liquid and grimaced as he forced himself to take a sip of the slug. Admittedly, he never drank coffee, it’s always sweets for him whenever he wants some energy boost. If he were to drink some, it would be from a coffee shop, not the machine in the station.

Like the coffee shop he had been spending his time earlier that day with a very pleasant company ... until he was interrupted, he thought bitterly.

“It was just dinner, he was understanding. We might reschedule later- Oh, what is it this time.” He groaned as Montoya’s own pager sounded off, cutting him off. She sighed, pulling the machine and read through it before shaking her head.

“You won’t believe it, but Scarecrow’s stole from a jewelry shop.”

“He had to at some point, where do you think he gets the money?”

“But a jewel shop? Not the bank?” She said, leaving him to go pursue the situation. Edward was left behind once more, staring at her back.

He growls.

Batman was out, the rogues are getting out of hands, and the city needs a savior.

Yet here he was, unable to do anything simply because of what?

His safety?

“Well, Nygma, looks like you’re going to do something either very foolish or truly brilliant.” He said to himself.

** 0o0o0 **

He had sat on top of a building in the rowdiest part of the city, where he knew from years of watching that the Bat family usually passed this area as their monitoring destination. This is the old infamous Park Row, after all, where Crime Alley resides.

Not to his surprise, he was able to see one of them run across the rooftops. He stood still, breathing lightly as the protégé, the third one? Yes, the red and third one, passed him.

“Robin, or Red Robin, whatever you go by, I need to speak to you.” He said, surprising the teen and making him halt by tripping on his own leg. He winced a bit as the child – _child_ – turned and flipped on the ground before skidding to a stop and groaning loudly.

“You had to do that?”

“Sorry, I just needed to talk to you. I’m called Nygma, I’m part of the GCPD.” He said, raising a badge. The teen looked at him skeptically before taking a glance of the badge and nodding in confirmation. It was just an ID, for the building, but at least it can be used to identify himself.

“How did you even know I'll be here?”

“It’s simple, you and your family need to change up your routine. This district always sees a significant amount of traffic from you lot. And don’t worry, I’m not here to arrest you or anything, in fact, I have some info.” He said, pulling out a file that he had discreetly printed before leaving the station and a USB.

“What sort of info?” The teen was still doubtful, not ready to trust him.

“I know that you people stake out the police radio. This one hasn’t hit the network yet, but it’s crucial for you. Take it, inside, you’ll find some samples I managed to pick up. It can probably tell you where Batman is.”

“What?” The kid sounded surprised. Edward scoffed.

“Mad Hatter sent a data pack into the station. What I don’t believe is that he was the only one who had taken your father figure-”

“He’s not a father figure.” The child states. He sent him a look.

“Kid, it’s so freaking obvious. The first three robins are probably unrelated to Batman, the last Robin is definitely related, but had taken training with no input from the man when he first showed up. The girls are also unrelated, but I know for a fact that the first Batwoman had been Gordon’s child-”

“Whoa, chill, how do you know all of this!”

“How? I use my brain! Now, take this to your secret hideout and go search for that man. I’m only doing this because I know Loeb would have ruined the samples and investigation later.”

“Acting commissioner?”

“Corrupt. The man is getting paid.” He said grimly before looking at his back and to the sides. He was relieved that they were still unmonitored. “If you need an encryption code or something like that, search for me, I can at least give some expertise on the matter.” He said before turning around and leaving the bird alone.

There, he had done something. Even if it somewhat pulled him out of the investigation, it was still something that would some conclusion to this madness.

\--

Riddle: They brandish stitches by befriending others. Who are they?

Answer: Snitches.

Conclusion: For a snitch, his skin has a lack os scaring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bullock and Montoya partnered up at times during the Animated Series, if I remember correctly, they had a third rookie character with them.  
> The rose is a cafe where Poison Ivy and Harvey Dent broke the news to Bruce that they're engaged ...  
> Yeah, that actually happened.  
> Also, in Arkham Origins, Edward was the head of the Cyber Crime Division.
> 
> Also, excuse the really lame riddles at the bottom. When I first wrote this, I thought it was neat to have little segments with riddles. Re-reading makes me cringe because it's all cannibalized from other riddles or really bad wordplay. I even remember one of the riddles being translated from its original language, so the tone is off in English.


	4. Chapter 4

“This is a rather strange avenue for you to take me to. You do realize that the moment someone figures out my occupation, I’ll probably get hanged.” Edward mused as he followed the older man to the club.

It had been a quiet 2 weeks since he had spoken to the bird, but something had changed that night.

The atmosphere of the city has become stifling, as the vigilantes became even more active than they were before. The station had been receiving even more criminals, and the rogues were now silent.

He prided himself in the idea that this whole shift has occurred because of his actions. Unfortunately, he couldn't brag about his achievements, not if he wanted to keep his job.

Tonight, however, was the last working day in the week for him, and he had been invited by his friend to spend time drinking.

No, his friend wasn't one of the officers in the precinct, no one really liked him there, and the few who did were busy.

“You believe the rumors? Of the place being a hiding space for the outlaws?” The man chuckled, but Edward couldn’t help but give him an affronted look.

“Please, Jonathan, do you think I would believe rumors? No. It was proven. I had proved it, might I add. A simple surveillance sweep was all that’s needed for it to be confirmed.”

“Yet, you have not told your colleagues?” Jonathan muses.

“Why should I? The Ice Berg lounge is more akin to a neutral area than a hideout. Other officers come here as well, but they are of the … other sorts.”

“Well, I know the owner well, he will not allow any misfortune to befall you while you are in my presence.”

“Ah! The whole _'hey, I know this guy, this person is a friend of my friend, treat him with respect!'_ ” He said in a mocking voice.

To his utter delight, it had gone exactly as he had predicted. Crane had entered and walked straight to the owner to greet them, said owner – Edward just met the _penguin_ of all people! – had given him one look before giving him a warm reception and threatening anyone who would disturb them.

They were given a private booth that had a view of the whole lounge and whatever event would occur on stage.

“Fancy, I must admit.” Edward finally said once they were left alone. Crane lifts his glass in agreement. “How do you know Pen- Mr. Cobblepot?”

“He used to be one of my clients.” 

“No way, the man doesn’t seem the sort.”

“Everyone has problems, Edward.” Crane said, taking a moment to glance at the stage before looking back at him. “It’s just the manner of actually detecting it before it simmers and settles down within your conscious. Cobblepot is one of these few individuals.”

He was surprised when he saw Jonathan lean in a bit, gesturing for him to do so. Edward followed, and his forehead nearly touching his.

“He has anxiety. High levels that he would need meds for them.” He said before leaning back, and Edward made a sound of understanding.

“You do not exaggerate. So, when you use such a thing, I think you are understating it.”

Jonathan all but grins at him.

“Interesting. It’s not a life, having to depend on medicine to keep you functioning. It’s humiliating.”

“Are you speaking from experience?” Jonathan asked, raising a brow before a look passed his face. “Is that why you refuse to eat certain things.”

“Yes, unfortunately, but that’s a story for another time. Now, tell me, did something interesting happened to you since we last met?” He questioned.

An hour later, a waiter comes in with some food, they were surprised to see Penguin had come out of another booth and looked to be fuming, ready to shoot someone. Edward sends a nervous glance at Jonathan, who only gestures for him to calm down and then called out for the owner.

Penguin, hearing the call, turns around and smiled at the sight before entering and joining them.

“Color me surprised when I saw Jonathan had come in with a friend, this man doesn’t have many.”

“Not many people can keep up with a conversation with me, none the less be able to conjure a debate.”

“Ditto.” Edward said, grinning at the man’s eye roll for his choice of words.

“I see, and you two have known each other for how long?”

“When did we meet? I think it’s been months. Since Commissioner Gordon had been hospitalized.”

“Oh? It must have been a jarring experience for you to remember that.”

“Not really, I went to visit him.”

“Visit?” Cobblepot asks before sending a look to Jonathan. Edward felt a small jitter go through his hand before he stopped it and smiled charmingly at the man. “Is he a relative?”

“A co-worker.”

“I see, the more I learn about you, the more I truly question why Jonathan had befriended you.” He says, it felt as if the man was breathing grime with the way his expression shifted. Edward sent a pained smile at both him and Jonathan, to Penguin to at least be polite, and to Jonathan to yell _‘I told you so!’_ without saying it out loud.

“Believe me, Oswald, Edward is more friendly than Gordon.”

“Yes … Jim was a lousy friend. At least yours isn’t of the same variety. If you two might excuse me.” He said, leaving the room. Edward lets out a sigh of relief.

“I don’t know why, but I feel like I just conjured a bounty over my head.”

“Don’t worry, Cobblepot is like that with every new person.” Jonathan tells him. “In fact, the first time I met him, we-”

Jonathan never finished his sentence, for the next thing they knew, an explosion erupted from the front doors of the establishment.

Seeing as they were both on the second floor, they felt the quake immediately. Edward stood up, looking at the window to see what had happened, his hands immediately on the pager, and stared in shock as vines sprouted inside.

“Jonathan, we need to get out!” He says, grabbing onto Jonathan’s arms and pulling him out of their booth. Jonathan’s eyes turned wild, it was the first time Edward had ever seen an extreme reaction from him as he stumbled out.

Many others came out form the booth that Penguin had sat in earlier, and none of them seemed to be of the law abiding type. He could confirm this just from the fact that they had all pulled out their guns.

Edward stomped on his own feet, and smacked his back to Jonathan’s front, forcing him back inside their booth and locking the door. Jonathan was grumbling, rubbing his chin.

“Did you have to-”

“Fuck. I think those were Thorne’s men.” He said, completely missing the surprise on Jonathan’s face. “We just need to hide in here, I already sent a dispatch call. They’ll come and get things under control.” He said as he pulls the taller man down to hide behind the walls and make themselves invisible.

“Where is he?! I know he’s here!” A female voice screamed from below, only reinforcing his theory of who might be attacking.

“What do you think Penguin did to attract Poison Ivy’s fury?” Edward blandly asked, but the silence he received only worried him. He turns around to look at Jonathan ... Only for him to pick up _something off_ in his behavior. His chin completely rugged close and his glare on the opposing wall told him more.

“You know why she’s here,” Edward said, horrified. “ ** _Why_** do you know why she’s here?!”

“It isn’t something I’d like to share.” He said, and Edward felt the terror slowly creep up his spine as he realized. _‘Of course, the one person you liked had something to do with the criminal underworld, **Of Course!** ’_

“Edward, please,” Jonathan noticed his building fear. “It isn’t exactly what you think.”

“Well, what exactly is it?! Why is one of the deadliest rogues in the city after you!? A psychologist, of all people!”

“I took a plant.”

“You took a _what?!”_

His phone went off.

Edward scrambled for it, wanting to close it, only to notice that the phone number is owned by one the dispatchers from the station. He answers it immediately.

“Director Nygma, we received your SOS.”

“Poison Ivy. Ice Berg Lounge-” He screamed when vines sprouted above their heads, breaking the glass that was both protecting and separating him and Jonathan from whatever was happening out in the lobby.

“Cobblepot sold us out.” Jonathan hissed under his breath, Edward couldn’t help but agree.

The vines dangled for a moment, as if deciding whether they were its intended targets, before it trajected straight at them. Jonathan tried to scramble away, the sprouts almost hitting him, and Edward didn’t hesitate before pulling him down.

He takes one glance back only to feel his heart jumping out of his chest, for he saw the vines going straight through the walls.

“I almost got stabbed by her plants, send help!” He screamed at the phone before it was taken from his hands by another vine and was squashed in front of his eyes. Edward gapes, before scrambling and grabbing any object that could be used as a weapon.

He found a sharp shard of glass and immediately throws it at the vein.

The plant shrieked, as if in pain, and flailed for a moment before redirecting itself at him and immediately wrapping itself around his outstretched arms.

“Holy fu-” He couldn’t finish, not when the thing yanks him out of place. He could feel his head hitting the table that they were hiding under, definitely giving him a concussion.

Jonathon jumps and grabs onto his legs, and Edward all but screamed as he was being tugged between the lobby and the booth, his stomach right above a sharp shard of glass that stuck out as a result of the veins shattering it.

“Jon, let me go!” He yells, but Jonathan gives him a look that screamed _‘Are you crazy?!’_

“I am not letting you get killed for my idiocy!”

“It’s better me than you!” Edward yelled, and then raised his free foot and stomped, hard, on Jon’s hands. The psychologist yells in pain and realized a moment too late that he’d released him.

“Edward!”

“You!” That’s when they both look back to find her, hovering above the lounge with the help of the plants, intimidating as hell while casting a shadow over them. Edward was utterly speechless, unable to conjure much at the image of the feistiest and deadliest woman of the rogue gallery as she held him midair.

“I apologize for taking your plant.” Jonathan said immediately, and Edward couldn’t help but smack himself in the head.

“And I want to say you look lovely today, Dr. Isley, you’re a doctor? Right?” Edward starts speaking. “Botany? Well, you do look lovely, and it would be a shame to ruin your dress with my blood stains ... or Jonathans, so if you can just- I’m sorry!” He shrieked as he was flailed overhead for a moment, thrown away by the branch, Jonathan’s shout could be heard.

He was saved from the fall by another branch.

“Now, Crane, if you let me behead you, I’ll release your friend.”

“No! You can’t just behead him!” Edward yells. His heart dangerously rising above its normal beating rate.

“Ed, shut up.” Jonathan growls before stepping over the table that not only a mere moments ago was being used to dine on. His heartbeat rose, higher, and higher, and he could feel it coming, the pain that he’ll feel for what he’ll witness. “You can take me, just leave him be. He has nothing to do with this.”

Poison Ivy was about to comply, but at that moment, a wire wrapped around her wrists.

And she was yanked down.

Edward was pulled along, but he was saved when a sharp object cut the branch that held him hostage, and he was caught by a flying body. Looking upwards, he cheered.

“Nygma, you alright?” The red robin asked as he lands. Edward could see in the side as Batwoman continued to fight Poison Ivy. He was slowly put down, his heart slows down, knowing that he was safe now. “Get out of here, the cops are getting close.”

“Give him to me.” Edward’s head snapped towards the sound, and he sees Jonathan next to them, panting harshly before leaning down and pulling him off the floor, letting himself be used as a crutch. “You go fight her.”

He orders before pulling them out of the lounge.

** 0o0o0 **

“You steal a fucking plant from fucking Poison Ivy. You steal a fucking  _plant._ A _plant!_ From **_POISON IVY!_** ” He kept yelling as they walk through the station, many employees there were either laughing at him or giving him sympathetic looks. It wasn’t because of this specific topic, it was mostly because of the incident that happened earlier.

He came out of the incident with a sprained leg, a concussion, and a bleeding broken nose! They had to give him a small splinter for it, and it made him furious. To add insult to injury, dispatch legally couldn’t stop the call from getting recorded, and thus, every member of the GCPD has the ability to listen to the SOS call, and they all mostly heard him scream right before his phone had gotten smashed.

And he needs to buy a new phone!

The humanity!

“If it soothes your conscious, I was in need of a compound to help me equate my chemical formula.”

“I know that you are passionate,” Edward said, stopping in place and taking a breath slowly. “So passionate, in fact, it is one of the things that I admire of you. But, to disregard your safety? And to steal? From a Gotham _rogue_ of all people!”

“I needed to complete it.”

“Complete it? Your research? Formula? Is it more important than your life?!” Edward screamed.

All activity in the station had stopped. Everyone had turned to stare at them, and Edward shook in rage as he realized that he was letting his personal life be aired out to these ingrates who couldn’t even beat the birds into reaching their place when _they_ had the cruisers and the sidekicks all but ran.

His shaking hands were grabbed by Jonathan’s own and was pulled upwards to him. Slowly, he trails his sight on Jon's arms, the neck, the lips, and the eyes. He could see the look of regret on the man’s face.

He exhales.

“If I knew, I would have rescheduled our meeting-”

“Are you fucking serious! It’s not about the date! It’s about your life! What would have happened if I weren’t there?!”

“Edward, calm down. I realize that now. I apologize for my rash decisions and actions, but this place is not the place to have this kind of conversation.”

“You’re right.” Edward tells him and then pulls him towards a familiar path, one with less traffic and fewer bumbling fools. They stop in front of an office and he pulls out a key from his belt, unlocking the door, and walking in, dragging Jonathon along. “Welcome … to my office.”

Jonathan was speechless. The reaction gave him a bit of amusement, despite everything that had happened today. Anyone who witnesses this place  _should_ feel awe and gratification by the sight, after all, this is the place that he works in to accomplishes his goals.

“I know, a bit excessive. But this is how I get the job done. There’s a reason Gotham has the lowest pedophilic crimes, after all. One cannot relax knowing that creatures like those are out and about.” He said as he walks towards a keyboard and started typing on it.

The screen directly adjacent to his keyboard lights. Then, one by one, every screen, and every monitor lights up. All of them observing a different part of Gotham. Surveillance switching from one part to another in different frequencies.

Watching.

“This is amazing.” Jonathan breaths, his eyes unable to decide on which screen they should land on. “You have eyes on every part of Gotham …”

“We used to be fucking productive because of it too. But Loeb," His voice turned scathing at the mention of the acting commissioner. "Had to come in and start kicking out people. My department had about 20 members, everyone used to take a certain job. I staked out for pedophiles along with two others. Three were chasing online drug deals. Computer and digital forensics for imaging. Some for hacking and going through devices. Others go on the field in case we need someone to hack into something, that was usually me. Most of us are tech support too. But ever since freaking Loeb came in, and we’re down to 5 people. They’re swamped, and I can’t expand even more, and I don’t have extra limbs.”

“No wonder it had gotten harder to arrange our outings.”

“Yeah … It’s like the guy _wants_ us to fail. Like he wants to shut down the department. If he continues on like this …”

“That man must be horrendous to work with.”

“I want Gordon back, but ever since the Scarecrow heist, and he’s out of commission.” He said, joking at his little play of words before sighing and dropping down on his chair. “They gave me a week off. They think I need it. I don’t. I need to stay here.”

“It’s one week, Edward.” He would have deluded himself into thinking that Jonathan actually sounded worried, but knowing the man as well as he does now, he's betting that he's only showing concern as a form of social obligation.

“Yeah? And what sort of damage will Loeb do in one week? I’ll come back and find I’ll be down to two employees left. He just plain hates me for being a civilian director. What’s wrong with that!? I don’t see any other officer taking over tech support?!”

“Edward-”

“Now, I find out that you have a rogue after you. Because you wanted to solve some chemical component? Couldn't you have asked me to help?”

“Can you?” Jonathan said, his voice skeptical. It slowly boiled his blood in silent fury.

“Of course I can! Do you think I’m some mere techy? I have a Ph.D. in engineering! I’m on my way to get my chemical doctors! I even have a diploma in computer science.”

“You are working on a computer science diploma …” Jonathan mutters, but Edward stood immediately, glaring upwards at the man.

“Show me your formula.” He demands. Jonathan appraises him, contemplating whether it’s alright to share his findings or not. He was obviously going to deny him the request, but Edward beat him into it. “I almost died because of it, I want to see it.”

It was hideously simple.

Edward just blankly stares at it.

He knew his brains processed information faster than others, knew that his genius reached out further than the average mind. But Jonathan was not of average mind. Jonathan has a Ph.D. in both Psychology and Chemistry, he should know this. Yes, it’s a bit difficult to balance it out without the use of the rare petals the man had stolen, but Edward only needed but a graphite pencil to solve it.

He writes down the completed formula and promptly threw it at the man’s face.

“There! Was it too hard to ask for help? We could have avoided the whole incident with that poisonous lady.”

Jonathan stared at the formula as it lay in his hands, his eyes unreadable and blank.

Edward growls, letting out an angry puff of air and points at the door.

“I’m tired today, Jon. Please, leave me alone for the night.”

\--

Riddle: Two men were taking cold drinks, the drinks were poisoned. One man drank at least three different drinks in a short amount of time and was alive. The other only had one glass, one drink, for the same amount of time, and died. Why?

Answer: The poison was in the ice. It melted off for the second one in his drink, thus consuming the poison.

Conclusion: He did not have _any_ drinks whatsoever, all mild and non-alcoholic, yet he was the victim in this situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the main reasons I liked Riddler's incarnation in Arkham is because he had the job I wanted to have. Cybersecurity.  
> I'll admit, I don't want to work cybersecurity anymore, not after hearing what the real guys actually do.
> 
> Some cops don't like it when a civilian takes up a high position in the department. Imagine, having a lot more experience and risking your life daily, then when you need a new commissioner, they bring in a green civilian with no experience in the field to lead the men? Wouldn't you get angry?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought you'd seen the last of me, did you?

He managed to get only four days off and was back before any real damage could happen to his department.

One of his senior staff members, Amanda, couldn’t hold off her maternity leave any longer and needed to get her vacation days started because she couldn’t work anymore without worrying from the stress.

Solly’s intern days has ended. Fortunately for everyone, he’s returning a month later as a full member of the staff.

Donna was still doing her absolute best staking out online criminal activities, and with her excellent reporting skills, they should have at least gotten a leg up over the rising crime rate since some criminals though they're clever enough to hide their plans online but were far too inferior to them. If only Loeb could take their reports seriously.

Alejandro was now taking Edward's place for any field related work since his leg is still injured.

James was fired.

He needed to find a new employee, fast. He couldn’t wait for Gordon to come back later this month, only then will he release all the blackmail he’d gathered on Loeb and get his sweet, _sweet_ , revenge on him. They were all working overtime and were receiving some help from the forensic scientist downstairs from time to time. Their department was also hit, but not as hard as they were, seeing as their head was a sworn CSI agent, instead of a civilian director.

Oh, he could taste that sweet revenge.

“Detective Bullock says there’s a package for you, it’s been checked out.” Someone comes in and pointedly says to Edward. Sighing, he pushed himself off the desk and waves at his fellow workers before going down the stairs.

“Really? Nygma? Rerouting your mail deliveries to the station now?” Bullock tells him in a lecturing tone, the image only dispelled by his grinning face.

“Hey, basically everyone’s doing it, and I literally live in the station now.”

“You should ease up, should have taken the week off. You’re entitled to it.”

“What? Because I was attacked? Bullock, we were both at the Scarecrow stakeout, and that was more dangerous.” He said as he takes the package and shakes it. Frowning, he looks down again at the innocent looking box.

“I haven’t ordered anything.”

“There was a letter with it,” Bullock said, producing it out from under his desk. “Had to keep it safe from prying arms. Those jerks, I swear. They’ll do anything to snoop around someone’s love life.”

“Love life? What are you talk- Oh. That.”

“Is everything alright with your partner?”

“We aren’t partners. I don’t think we’ll be able to become partners after what had happened.”

“I get it,” Bullock said, leaning back on his chair. “He didn’t look like the caring type.”

“It isn’t about- You know what, never mind.” He huffs in dismay before guessing what’s in the box. From the weight and sound of it, it felt more like a watch than anything. When he tore the parcel open, he was not surprised to find that his guess was correct.

What he never anticipated was the brand of the watch itself.

Bullock whistled.

“Your guy’s desperate.” He said, laughing at him. Edward couldn’t help but twitch a bit for a smile as he took out the watch and wore it over his wrist, above his already worn and old watch. He was content with wearing them both. One for sentimentality, the other also for sentimentality, but also practicality.

“My, oh my. Jonathan must be remorseful if this is bought to redeem himself.” He mumbled to himself as he stared at the expensive watch. He swore he could have seen it before, maybe on a television channel, in an advert, or something of the like. He opens the letter and couldn’t help but turn his smirk into a genuine smile.

It might have been written professionally, but underneath the lines and in between the words, one could tell that Jonothan Crane is one big sap.

Now, if only Edward could make the man loosen up a bit.

“Hey, Eddie, I know Loeb isn’t letting you in on some stuff,” Bullock starts, voice low and eying everyone else in the office making sure that they weren’t heard. Edward’s attention honed on the man and he slightly leaned down to listen. “The hatter case, about Batman. We recently found out that the guy isn’t working alone.”

“Who’s he working with?”

“Joker. And a chunk of the rogue gallery.”

“Well …" Edward swallowed. "Fuck.”

** 0o0o0 **

The dispatchers that worked in Gotham’s station are a different branch than that of the ones working for non-emergency calls. In the past, about a few decades or so, they were working in one building, all of them reconnecting emergency calls to either the police, ambulance, and firemen.

With the rise of crime, it had gotten to a point where two different branches needed to work, one for emergencies, and one for non-emergencies, as if they were normal phone operators.

Edward found himself bringing a big box of donuts and a few specialized drinks.

“Eddie’s here!” Someone calls from the front and waves at him in a greeting. Edward couldn’t help but smile at the old secretary as he gives her the box of tiny bits of round donuts that she liked. He’d already delivered food to his team, and they liked sandwiches more than snacks since they have a more stable area to work with a steady flow.

The operators, especially here in Gotham, are far too busy to have that sort of blessing. They usually sent someone out to buy the lunch or dinners, but no one ever thought of snacks.

“What a sweetie.” She tells him as she reaches his cheeks and pinched it. Edward grimaced but hid it with a smile immediately. “Why don’t you go to Ronda! She’s been in a tizzy ever since your call a week ago. Everyone’s been worried.”

“Really? I forgot, sorry, must have been one heck of a call for you guys to receive.”

“Not different from the ones we get from Gordon when he loses his radio. Honestly, I’m glad that they have their own station to check on sometimes, the things they get themselves into. Now, don’t be following the Commissioner’s way, we don’t need another one always giving us a heart attack.”

“I’ll try.” He said as he goes to the main disk where the food was put and placed the box of donuts on it. He takes one sweeping glance to the hectic workplace, every person on a desk receiving a call or such. One even seemed to be having a less than stellar time probably talking to someone misusing the emergency lines before finding the person he needs to be thanking.

“Ronda, hello, I wanted-” He stopped when the woman turns and throws her arms around him while crying.

“Oh, director Nygma! I was so worried, you didn’t even say anything and we thought we lost you and-”

“It’s okay, breath.” He calms her down as she sits down.

“What were you even doing there of all places! Everyone knows that the place is crowded with crooks.” She admonished, even with her tears trailing down despite her rubbing them away.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect to end up there. I was out with a friend and he took me there instead. I did tell him that I might not survive if we spend the night. Must have jinxed myself.”

“Well, don’t go there again! And your nose is broken! Alejandro, come help your boss.”

“Wait- Al is here?”

“Oh yeah, we asked for someone to come fix a router line and- Alejandro that was mean.” She said as the man jumps at him, scaring the life out of Edward, only for his employee to get smacked in the elbows by Ronda. “He only just got attacked a week ago.”

“The Boss is hardcore, he can take my scare. What is it that you need? Another wire busted?”

“No, your director’s nose is busted.”

“What? You want me to …” Al looked disturbed for a moment before turning at him, looking pretty sympathetic as he focused on his nose. “This is going to be painful if you want me to straighten it.”

“Just do it.” Edward said blandly.

A few minutes later, he screamed. Some of the operators stopped and were around him making sure he was fine. Al, the rat, was laughing so hard that he started getting breathing trouble. Ronda did not look pleased with the man’s reaction but haven’t said anything as she checks on him and the now taken off nose sling. After Al had his last laugh, he glances around and hums as he looks at everyone’s reaction.

“You sure are popular here, Boss.”

“I used to work here before I transferred.” He simpered as a reply, still holding his nose and calmed down another operator from thinking he might need an ambulance that they could call. It was the first place he worked in, actually. As a volunteer during his college years, and then as an intern, before working completely as an operator himself.

He loathed the days he spent here. No clue on who helped him, no time to search for the man’s name, no time to find out what exactly happened to him without offending anyone who worked here. This job was a high-stress job, higher stress than working in digital forensics, and that's saying something since he usually wasted hours trying to explain to his detective co-workers that _“No. I can’t hack into an iPhone like that, I need at least three devices hooked up and we don’t have the funds to buy them.”_

When in reality, he could, especially with his decoder program that he personally made, he just didn’t want to go into the legal jargon later on whether it’s even allowed for them to hack a phone or not.

When the head of the department went through everyone’s profile for some kind of survey, he came down screaming at him for wasting his time in this place instead of using his certificate and get something easier on him. So, he changed his job.

Sometimes, he thinks about the fact that anyone can find his weaknesses just by going through his work file, especially since it had his medical history attached, and vehemently cursed his father.

Alejandro turns to look at Ronda for a confirmation, but she shrugged before saying “He left before I even joined. But they said he was good.”

“Of course I’m good, I’m good at everything I put my mind into.” He said, sniffing in haughtiness. Really, if people only _applied_ themselves.

A commotion started on the back end of the department. The three turn around and watched, others joining as the man had tried to talk whoever was on the phone. A second later, a shot was heard, and the man slumps down on his chair before requesting for a patrol to go and check a dead body.

Suicide.

It calls like these made Edward ... a bit glad he had left this job.

** 0o0o0 **

Leaving the department for today, he felt his skin slowly raking up, as if eyes followed him. He couldn’t handle that, not today. Not when everything’s finally coming back together to how it was before, not when Gordon _finally_ came back and started to fix up all the problems Loeb caused.

He even rehired James, the man looked irritated, he was halfway into suing the acting commissioner and was going to say that the motive into firing him was a hate crime.

Which was simultaneously both accurate and inaccurate at the same time. Not in the way people tend to think when they hear hate crime.

Edward had reassured the man that Loeb is already under investigation because of an anonymous tip and a data pack.

James gave him a knowing look.

After helping him redecorate his desk and making space for the new hires, he finally decides on leaving the precinct for the night. Yet, here he was, still on edge. The feeling resembled that night in the lounge many weeks ago, when vines crawled everywhere, and he tried to stay silent with Jonathan by his side.

It was when he was getting closer to his apartment, on the bad side of the city, close to the Bowery and actually bordering the infamous crime district that he gave up and turns around, making it obvious that he was agitated and ready to fight off whoever was following him. He even checks above, not trusting anyone in this accursed city and knowing how assassinations work most of the time.

Instead, his voice was caught in his throat when someone just plainly appears from the corner instead, one with a metallic-like helmet covering his whole face in an unmistakable and eye-catching red.

“Redhood?” He peeps, backing a bit. Which was ridiculous, he hadn’t done anything at all to warrant any scrutiny from the most blood lusting member of the bat family. “I’m not corrupt!” He says, only to shut up when Redhood’s hand clamps on his shoulders.

“I know. But we need your help. Red Robin said you’ll be useful.”

“The way you said it does not leave me feeling safe and assured, but yes, I can help.”

“Then I need to knock you out first.”

“What?”

He was hit in the head.

\--

Riddle: The walls are green, the roads and buildings are red, the adults are black, and the children are white. What am I?

Answer: A watermelon.

Conclusion: He wished that Redhood’s head was watermelon hood instead, so he could have the chance to squish it to oblivion! The nerve of that man!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got sick a while ago, and no one should ever listen to me when I'm sick. I'm just very horrible. My brain to mouth filter is broken.  
> Good news, I have this written till chapter 13 (which still needs revising, really).  
> Bad news, I'm very busy. Like, hella busy. Four tests, some quizzes, graduation project.


	6. Chapter 6

Coming back to reality is the worst feeling to experience, in any given situation.

You wake up in the hospital, you were hurt.

You wake up in the alleyway, you were probably hurt, or mugged, or drunk, or all three.

You wake up in your bed, in your cozy warm apartment, you realize you have to live another 24 hours before returning.

In the end, you always wake up in disappointment and hurt, wondering if you can just fall back to sleep and forget reality altogether.

But life will not allow that, and because of this, Edward experienced what waking up in a cave felt like for the first time.

“I’ll be, urban legends have some merits in them.” He loudly proclaims, letting his voice echo through the cave. Everyone else had been feeling as disgruntled as he did, he took pride in being the reason for that. Was a simple request hard to ask? Did he have to get knocked out like that? And lose probably a few brain cells along the way?

He does admit that he can afford some brain cells, but he likes to _keep them,_ thank you very much.

Still, he’d been in a foul mood ever since he woke up in metal cuffs and watched over by the Redhood before the others arrived. Red Robin, the little delightful boy, a far better fruit than the rest of the bunch, had been apologetic the whole time as he uncuffed him and helped him up, tending to his needs before asking for the favor that Edward now regrets offering him a long time ago.

It was just absurd to be in the presence of all of Batman’s sidekicks.

At least Redhood brought his rugged laptop as well to help him process the information faster. Not that Batman’s own computer wasn’t fast, it was just unfamiliar to him, and he trusted his own programming more than other’s.

While Batman’s programs are high tech, impressive, and well tended to, his own programs are far more superior in gaining the information they needed.

“This is incomprehensible, why would all the rogues work together?” He asks as he flits over the decrypted messages that had been retrieved by the children.

These were message logs.

And they were of the rogues plotting something.

“So far, they haven’t done anything to Batman. The worst thing they’ve done is probably muscle atrophy, seeing as they kept him in Mad Hatter’s hold this whole time.”

“Months, freaking months, and they let him do _nothing._ ” Red Robin was in obvious anger and nervousness at the news. The rest of the children all seemed to be in a ranging scale of anger, especially the youngest.

“Nothing unless someone else came and moved them. Joker’s the head, as usual. But they’ve been having some infighting for some while, see here,” He points at some logs that are currently decrypting. “It’s about Poison Ivy and Scarecrow’s relationship. Two-Face mentioned something about it in another log and- Huh?”

This wasn’t right.

“What is it?” The youngest said, too restless to be kept out of the conversation any longer, and finally nudged himself in his breathing space to look.

Everyone read the log with a varying degree of disbelief.

_“If you dare do that again, Scarecrow, I’ll follow that pretty friend of yours and stab the heart till it's dead.”_

_“Get any closer, and I will concoct a toxin that will make your plants whither in pain.”_

“Okay, so it’s safe to say that they’re so close that they know each other’s love lives.” Edward comments, frowning a bit. “I mean … Scarecrow was never caught before, and neither Penguin, so we don’t really know anything about him other than his probable chemical genius. It still feels deranged to know that they have a civilian life.”

“Usually Poison Ivy doesn’t cross people’s families, especially if they’re girls, so Scarecrow must have done something really terrible,” Batwoman comments, but the youngest Robin scoffs.

“By truly terrible, you mean stepping on one of her plants?”

“Yeah, a rare plant most probably,” Edward adds, receiving a confused look from the child before he shook his head and looks back on the screen. Edward follows his example, and paused for a moment, reading the information.

“Hold up, _no way._ ” He breathes in, gaping at the new data. “Joker’s planning a dinner party.”

This really brought a sense of foreboding to everyone. No one liked it when the Joker ‘plans’ a party of any kind, it usually meant two things, destruction, and death.

“We can get Mad Hatter half way through escorting Batman and save him then. These are the routes … and it’s happening at the weekend.” He points out, they all nod as they start to plan on saving him. After being silent and listening to the children argue for a moment, Edward really needed to point something out.

“What about the mind control machine? The moment that thing is off, Hatter will figure it out.”

“Then we disable it.” The youngest says, but Edward makes a noise of disapproval.

“No! You can’t simply just disable it! I’ve gone through Mad Hatter’s devices before hands, and they always have a feature that tells him when someone is trying to get his mind slaves out of his control. The process is difficult without knowing how Tetch programmed it.”

“Then …” The kids all gave each other looks before looking back at him. “Can’t you hack into the device?” Nightwing asked, and Edward grimaces for a second before sighing loudly.

“Can’t you hack into the device? He asks. Sure. Sure. I only need to be physically there with my tools, you know, among all those henchmen, weapons, rogues that are probably going to kill me, and the insect-filled forest.”

“But you still can.” He insists, Edward nods, dreading about where this conversation is going.

Insects.  _Insects. Insects contaminated by Gotham's waste. Generations of bugs that evolved because of-_

“In five to ten minutes." Edward cuts himself off, no need to think about this. "I’ll just have to extract the codes to see what each electrode in his device does. Tech's tech usually has a built-in brain map that as a guide reference, and luckily for us, Tetch only uses Wilder Penfield’s brain maps-” He stops when he noticed how silent everyone is. He rolls his eyes.

How uncultured.

“Wilder Penfield? The guy who discovered that stimulating parts of the brain with electrodes can produce movements or memories? First guy to try healing Epilepsy by destroying the nerve cells responsible for its seizures? The guy who we still use his brain maps to teach today, unaltered?”

“We’re not all college students you know.” The blond girl says, sounding a bit irritated. “He’s just like my dad, god.”

“You said five to ten minutes.” Batwoman interrupts, giving the girl a look. “You come with us, disable the device, and we’ll get you and Batman out. No problem.” Batwoman said like it was the simplest thing they can think up. Edward still had his doubts, but if they needed to save the city, and stop whatever horrible plan the Joker had cooked up this time around, then he’ll have to help.

“Fine. Fine, but you’ll owe me for this.” He grumbles under his breath.

If only everything went according to plan.

** 0o0o0 **

The meeting point was as obscure as it could get, it was mapped out so they could be able to get as close to the vehicles as possible without being caught and still stay further away from the destination point.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but watching the bat family choose and plan had left him feeling, but he did, in all intent and purpose, a tag along.

And he was a person who hated feeling useless.

When footsteps could be heard, Edward turns around to greet them, only to narrow his eyes at the mirth in the Red Robin’s eyes.

“What are you wearing?” He said, still holding his laughter, Edward looks at his clothes and shrugged, replying without making it audible. But the younger man seemed interested and leaned in to hear him.

Edward had an old fashioned coat and hat used in the old days of the mobs, back when they were always visible but never prosecuted publicly because they owned the places they were regulating. Unfortunately for him, his father was one of these mob members, and a made man to boot. He hated receiving his items after the man’s death, but something about these clothes interested him. Thus, he took the old earthy colored garment and dyed them in his favorite color as a big Fuck You to his old man.

He couldn’t actually wear it, they are after all a mob’s dress code, and it was a brighter shade of green than one would see on camo clothing.

He does have a modern coat in the same shade of green that he enjoyed wearing when off duty, no matter what anyone else said about it, he would never take it off for the world.

To top it off, he wore purple leather gloves with a Zorro-esque mask of the same color.

“I have a civilian life that I enjoy keeping.”

“Tell me you at least have a weapon, there’s probably going to be a point where I won’t be able to save you from the- Holy Fu- Where on earth did you get that!?” The teen yells when Edward pulled out a collapsible black cane that immediately cracked with electricity the moment it revealed its length.

“Made it myself back in college. I was doing my laser eye surgery at that time and I needed a cane, but you know how it is in this city, and all my college classmates were jerks and were going to gang over me if I didn’t make this.” He said with utter pride. The cane had a loop with a button at its end to start the electric discharge, or even to pull off the head to reveal a knife, but he wasn’t going to tell this to the teen.

“I even have my electronic watch, it’s like a mini computer with the same amount of processing power that you’ll get from my laptop. It's not that impressive, it's just a microprocessor attached with an HMI.”

“Okay, why invent that one?”

“Listen, kid, I wasn’t planning on ending up with a job in the GCPD. I was actually planning on opening up a company with my designs. But I needed to do something else …”

“In the GCPD.” The teen said with some skepticism. Edward ignored him as he clicked a button on his watch, the voices of both the youngest Robin and the oldest one were heard as they were discussing what to make for dinner.

This only added to the theory that they were a family and lived together, at least, everyone else but the oldest Robin-now-turned-Nightwing.

“Don’t think about lasagna in a time like this, my phone is catching some frequency. I think they’re getting closer.” He said, silencing both of the boys, only making the teen next to him giggle. Just like he had mentioned, their devices were all picking up signals coming from further away, announcing the arrival of the vehicles they need to stop.

Robin took out his hook and reached out to grab him, ready to jump to the fray once the vehicles were secured.

_“And then we bust his skull.”_

Two-Face’s voice was heard through his watch, making him grimace.

_“Ain’t nobody gonna be busting skulls in my sugah’s party!”_

“This one’s an incoming frequency from another sight. She’s not going to be present.” Edward tells the team, receiving a confirmation from everyone else that they’ve heard.

_“Y-Yes, that sounds very unhygienic. Although, rabbit meat is considered to be the cleanest meat-”_ Mad Hatter had spoken until he was cut off by Two-Face.

_“Disgusting. No one’s eating any human meat.”_

_“He is the white rabbit!”_

_“White rabbit? He’s literally the big black bat!”_ Harley shouted in the comm. Edward felt his head slowly disintegrating with this conversation.

They can see three vehicles coming.

“Jamming signals initiated in, 3, 2, 1-”

Before Edward could finish his sentence, everything was moving so fast, that he couldn’t pick anything up with his own eyes even as he heard every scream of every goon hiding on those cars while guns spiraled about. His shoulders hit the top of an armored van, and Red Robin pulls out a device that he immediately used to cut off the roof. Edward had to shrug off the pain in his shoulders as he pulled himself inside the now speeding van.

He ignored the chaos and anxious fight coming from his comm as he lands inside ...

only to have his breath taken away by the sight of the Batman.

The other goons that were stationed inside the van were already losing, but Robin managed to unhinge the door open, pulling them out of the van and using himself as a distraction.

Now, feeling safe enough, Edward pulls a wire and connects it from his watch to a port he knew would be present from many nights observing the insane criminal’s gadgets. He cheers as he starts cracking the program in it, trying to release Batman from Tetch's mind control.

This was far too exhilarating, Edward couldn't help but feel. The rush of cracking something so difficult. Hatter was a master hypnotist, the guy used to teach neuroscience before falling into madness, after all. While he wasn't as good at playing with technology, his methods were still brilliant. It was a puzzle, trying to evade the electrodes designed to kill off the victims or leave them disabled if they had the unfortunate luck of surviving the shock. One misstep in this maze and he could kill the dark knight.

It's dangerous.

Nightwing didn't really understand the dangerous situation he just put his mentor into. How could the sidekick even trust him with such a mission? Naivety? Dispiration?

Anyone else would fail under the pressure.

But Edward?

He thrives, he thrives because of the rush of success overwhelming when he can certainly solve something with any margin of difficulty.

The moment he succeeded, the man plummets down on the steel ground. Edward winced as he pulled off the bunny ears off the man’s head.

“Objective complete,” Edward yells to his watch. “Batman’s released, we need an escape route, he’s too heavy for me- Oh god, what the hell?!”

The van took a hard break, dropping him on the ground and hitting his face right next to the caped crusader, letting him hear the man’s groan. An incredible feat, seeing as the man should be unconscious after so long under mind control symptoms.

The doors were yanked out, forcefully, and the reason stood in front of the gaping hole that was created.

Two-Face.

“You! You creepy little freak!”

“Hey! I ain’t no freak, you dipshit!” He retorts, only to scream as he was pulled off the ground by the back lapels of his coat.

He was brought face to face – Double face – with the man. His eyes were completely looking straight at a split image cropped and stitched back together. Black hair, clear skin, and normal blue eyes contrasting harshly with white hair on the other side, and blazing red eyes with scarred and marred skin and a snarling mouth.

He couldn’t breathe.

He could feel his heart beat slowly rising.

“Wait a sec … You? You look familiar. Your eyes-”

“What’s wrong with my eyes!” He suddenly demands, what the hell is wrong with these villains?! Always focusing on the weirdest thing-

Then it struck him.

He knew Harvey Dent before.

He knew him, as the head of cybercrime, before the man turned into what he is today.

Holy heck.

“They’re real pretty.”

“Huh?” All feelings of dread dissipated at that moment, leaving him feeling incredulous. "Err- Thanks?"

Before any more could be said between them, a Batarang was thrown at the man’s back, making him howl loudly. Edward took that moment to pull out his electric baton/cane and expanded it in seconds, letting it electrify on the man’s stomach.

The man continues to howl as he lets him go, and he sees the youngest member standing there looking ready to kill someone, despite his katanas looking clean of any blood.

“Get Batman out of here.” He said as he stood up, the child didn’t need any more orders as he particularly ran inside and helped his father up, using himself as a crutch. Showing some pity to the duo, he also helps them out, grabbing Batman’s other side and then ran with them, leaving the scene into a safer destination point.

And as they all left, all the goons tied up and the kids sent an anonymous tip the police. Edward couldn't help but stare at his hands for the whole ride, clenching it from time to time as he reminded himself of what it felt to use his cane.

It felt ... good.

He liked hurting Two-face.

But that was ... that was only because the other was a bad guy. A lunatic deserving to live in the looney bin. The man hurt others,  _killed_ people. It's fine if he'd hurt him in return ...

Right?

\--

Riddle: Who’s not afraid of the big black bat?

Answer: -

Conclusion: Even Joker fears the Batman, now that he thought about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wilder Penfield info was found in the [Brain in minutes By Rita Carter] book. I haven't crossed referenced it much to other materials though. But the guy did a study about Deja vu as well. So, go wild, search more about him if you want. (I'm just mildly disturbed with the fact that Penfield as a college student, looked a bit like Mads Mikkelsen).
> 
> HMIs are Human-Machine-interface. Basically, the tool you use to contact the computer. Touch screens are famous examples. And to a certain point, mouse+keyboards+monitors are HMI when combined together.
> 
> Also, the bats is free! Free I'm telling you!  
> Eddie can finally stop worrying about the city's safety and start worrying about himself!


End file.
